Pace Maker

One of these days I would like to see my grandfather's medical record. He has survived 4 heart attacks, over a dozen heart strokes, and has lived way past the five year life expectancy rate they gave him when he had open heart surgery in 1978. Last week he had a pace maker implanted, only to have it removed two nights ago because of major infection. It was, (as he has been told numerous times before) his last hope.
That man amazes me. There he was this evening, three days after been temporarily paralyzed when a blood clot passed through his brain, sitting down having dinner when I called the hospital. I love him. I love him dearly, and his will to live beyond anyone else's expectations humbles me. He holds on to life with the strength left from his years as a professional soccer player, he still has the clarity of his younger years as an accountant, and the patience of the man who waited for hours on end as I walked the toy store he took me to every afternoon after picking me up from the school bus' stop.
I have said good night to him thinking it is the last good night more times than I can remember. I have said good bye to him and watch him wave from the window as I headed to the airport back into the States, only to return six months or a year later and find him stronger, and even more determined to live than the last time.
My grandfather raised me, he made my breakfast every morning. When a soccer match was on TV, he could not get his face away from the screen. When something was broken, we could not find a way to stop him from climbing on a ladder and fix it. Even now, after being diagnosed as a diabetic, he still manages to convince someone to get him a diet coke, or a slice of cake. He always gets away with what he wants, and not even death has been able to defeat him. There is only one thing that will help me grieve the day he leaves this world. It is the certainty that it will only happen when he wants to.

Good ol' Webster

His name is Webster, he is navy blue and weights 8.5 lbs. Even after all these years, technological advances and such, I still have to go back and leaf through him every now and then. Yep, he's my big old Webster's Dictionary. I actually put him on a scale before posting this. Eight and a half pounds! That's how much weight I would like to gain, but regardless of what I eat or do I can never acomplish it. Maybe if I kept him under my arm at all times I would appear to be almost nine pounds heavier? I don't think so.

Even so, it is somewhat comforting to know that my computer's spell check doesn't know it all. And it wasn't even a tough word! I just needed some help translating from Spanish...for some reason "catarsis" didn't sound quite right, and obviously the spell checker was clueless. So I picked up ol' Webster and looked for the C's... Cataract...Catarrh...Catarrahl fever... nope, it's not there. It must have an H...

Catharpin....CATHARSIS! (Thank you Sebastian, if you're reading this -He is the one I was quoting on my previous post). Anyways, it feels really good to find instances when you actually need a dictionary and your computer can't do it all. It somehow validates my zeal for my heavy blue friend. I must admit it. I sleep better at night knowing I have an almost nine pound dictionary on my desk. Perhaps I am pathetic, true, but at least I know how to spell the damn word.

Comment please?

So it turns out people are actually reading my blog, but except from Vanessa (whom last I heard was in Greece?) nobody else leaves comments! Come on! I would really like to know if you at least looked at it! Just write "I was here" if you want to, but let me know! (and, uh, don't forget to write your name too).

Now, I know this past month I haven't written anything especially interesting, and you probably wont find anything exciting on this page for the rest of the summer, so I won't blame you if you don't check back for a while. But this Fall promises to be a whole new experience for me. I'll be back in school, hopefully being a Teaching Assistant to Poli Sci undergrads, in a new town and meeting entirely new people. I'm sure you'll find good stories in here!

For now, thanks to my two unconditional readers, and to those sporadic visitors as well. I am glad we can keep in touch even if it is through this "electronically cathartic" method -as one of you put it-. It pleases me to hear that every once in a while I can entertain you.

Keep coming back, and once again, your comments are welcome!

Tacky Columns

I have spent the past few nights dreaming of ways to get rid of the columns on the apartment I'm moving into. Picture this, there is a half wall dividind the bedroom from the living area, but the top half of the wall is actually made up of wooden carved columns painted with glossy, tacky, shiny, fake wood paint. I suppose I can saw them off carefully and keep them until my lease is up, but what if I can't put them back up? I wonder how they are attached to the wall and the ceiling... I could also use a courtain, or maybe even hang some posters up to cover them, but that would be tacky too and it would defeat the purpose.
Meh, can you see the kind of trivial issues that occupy my mind lately? I hope August comes fast and school starts soon, I need to put my brain to better use!

Guilt

Can you be guilty of something you never realized was happening?

$15.47

$15.47 Can get you far if you spend wisely. Yesterday I got four shirts and four pants at Value Village! I finally have new clothes (well, they're not exactly "new") to wear! I needed lighter clothing for the summer, badly...it is so hot in this damn city!

Words & Orange Trees or Splendid Butterfly

Life is funny sometimes.

At a date with myself at the Museum of Fine Arts I finally found something I wasn't really looking for anymore but knew I was missing. A song. Staring at Gustave Caillebotte's "The Orange Trees" and listening to the random stuff I had downloaded to my Ipod, The Magnetic Fields' "All My Little Words" started playing...

You are a splendid butterfly
It is your wings that make you beautiful
And I could make you fly away
But I could never make you stay
You said you were in love with me
Both of us know that that's impossible
And I could make you rue the day
But I could never make you stay

Not for all the tea in China
Not if I could sing like a bird
Not for all North Carolina
Not for all my little words
Not if I could write for you
The sweetest song you ever heard
It doesn't matter what I'll do
Not for all my little words

Now that you've made me want to die
You tell me that you're unboyfriendable
And I could make you pay and pay
But I could never make you stay


That was it. It was the song I needed. I played it six times and kept staring at the painting. I wasn't even thinking about any of that stuff anymore! It just happened. And as I listened to the lyrics I was eternally grateful to Stephin Merritt and his band.

Of course, I walked to the parking lot and I found a short note on my windshield. It made me look over my shoulder with a bit of surprise. Then a few mixed feelings sunk in for a minute or two, and later everything went back to normal. She's in Houston.
Life plays jokes on you. Don't get me wrong. I am very thankful for the note, it put a smile on my face, and it made me write all this! It was just a weird coincidence that it happened today, right after I found the song, right outside the museum. Of course I played it again...

Corn or Flour?

There was flour all over the stage, flying in the air, even on their clothes.
The music? The music was everything between Andean rythms, electronic mixes, beats from the Venezuelan plains, and recordings of automated prompts from a self-serve register at a supermarket. The show was fun!
It is refreshing to see contemporary performances -although I must recognize that some of them throw me off a bit- but overall, there are always two or three pieces I usually enjoy, and at least one I absolutely love.
Of course it's even more fun if you know the artists! We had dinner after the show, and I guess it must have been all that flour on the stage, but she ordered corn tortillas. I hate corn tortillas.

Too busy in Colombia

No email messages from Colombia, I guess they are too busy over there. Too many people, too little time, too many dates to remember I suppose...
Well, it's little things like those what give you the measure of true friendships. It sucks to be so distant, so far away. Yet the good intentions have to be on both ends. I really have not heard from those friends for a while, and it always seems like it is I who have to call or email before they decide to drop a few lines. Some dates I don't forget... February 14th, March 14th, July 8th, July 31st, September 17th, November 14th. . . I forget even my dad's birthday, but not my friends', even after 5 years.

A Walk in the Park

A walk in the park is always a good way to go. It's fun to stand barefeet on the water streams (but make sure not to get your foot stuck in there!), and don't move if a mosquito bites you, because you will spoil the moment. (Of course, the mosquito already did that, but, would you rather scratch or keep kissing her?) It also helps to get old memories out of your mind, and to begin attaching new meanings and new memories to familiar places.
We saw a young gay couple holding hands, a homeless guy sleeping on a bench, three kids riding their bikes around the obelisk, and several rabbits hopping up and down all over the park. She says she's a rabbit and likes them very much.
It was a fun walk, a fun night. It's nice to go for a walk in the park.

Silence

Would you know what I mean when I say there are different types of silence?
There is a kind - a very silent kind- of silence that feels almost like an absence, an emptyness, a void completely out of place. A silence so silent that it hurts, and you almost beg for a coin to drop to the floor, for a mosquito to buzz in your ear, for a distant train to blow its whisthle, just to break that pungent, unbearable second of nothingness that should have been filled by words, by the ring of a phone, even by the also quiet sound of your email inbox.
And you wait. Maybe not holding on to very high expectations, even denying to yourself that the silence is there, pretending that it doesn't hurt, pretending that the many noises of the night are enough to fill your room, that you hear everything and the noise that is not coming from where you secretly wish it would come from never materializes.
Waiting, until the last of the 86400 seconds of the day when you wish the damn phone would ring have gone by.

Nothing.

Complete silence. Hermetic, absolute, unforgiving, unreal. So quiet, you almost forget it is there. But when it comes to setting your head down on a pillow you hear it again, that damn silence of an empty mail bag, of a non-ringing phone, of a messageless inbox reapears. On all days, of all days, today, that kind silence was what I most dreaded. And the silence stayed.

Two lines, they wouldn't have hurt anybody. Heck, I would have settled for one. Just for the acknowldegement that she knew what day was today. Today's silence hurts.

Good night you.

Adams Screen Printing - (and random thoughts)

It is still my favorite shirt, I wore it today for the first time.
Wow, I'm a year older and -hopefully- a year wiser.
I suppose it is true...You can't always get what you want.
I can't get that smell out of my head, I think it will be gone by tomorrow.
I like the ballerina, but she's still indecipherable... the game is on.
Damn, it's hot in here today, I hate the Texas summer.
Time to take a shower, I'm going out tonight.

Corporate Sucks

Tomorrow is a big day at work. A regional manager is visiting our store and everyone is freaking out about it. It's all fake. We have quite literally reorganized every corner of the store to make sure we're following company standards, and we have been instructed to twist our information in a way to reflect that we follow the guidelines imposed by our home office in New York. It's ironic. We are encouraged to innovate at the local level, try new ways to display the merchandise and increase sales, but as soon as somebody from NY visits the store, we have to hide every initiative, every idea, every display that does not meet the company's criteria. The people at the home office live in a bubble, and the store managers at every district make sure things stay that way...they would not want to stick out with an idea and risk upsetting the CEO, oh no! They rather lay low and keep quiet.
So, tomorrow I will have to lie about what we do every day, and pretend that every STUPID idea they sent from NY is wonderful and that the merchandisers from the home office are geniuses. In fact, they are a bunch of morons who don't have a clue of what is going on in the stores, what sells, what doesn't, and what ideas work.
In the mean time, everyone keeps looking for a new job, and I'm glad I'm moving to San Antonio.
Corporate Sucks

Found a New Place!

I got back from San Antonio yesterday, and I already found an apartment! It's just down the street from UTSA, so I'll probably be biking/walking to school! Rent is just $495 a month! It's a tiny 454 Sq ft efficiency, but it has a balcony, and it's right next to the pool, laundry, and mail pick up. It's all I need! I have a Target, a Home Depot, a Walmart, a Barnes and Noble and a bunch of other stores within a mile from the complex. My lease starts on August 15... I'll post pictures soon!

Mac Again

Back to my Mac!
Today I installed the Airport Express, so now I can print or play iTunes wirelessly from anywhere in the house! I'm building up my music library again since I lost everything when my old PC crashed. Any suggestions?
This friday I'll celebrate my birthday together with Liz, a girl from work whose birthday is one day before mine. I'm sorry about the lame posts lately (you know, unimportant and mundane stuff) but I am trying to get back into the habit of blogging after a few weeks of neglecting this page, so I'm forcing myself to post even if there is not much to say!

Package and a Letter for You

Bad timing for that package.

Contents:
1 CD
1 Pottery
1 t-shirt
Not a word

Sender: No name

It was almost like opening an empty bag. There was stuff in it, but...it was empty. Where was the note? Look again...no note?
Have you ever faced a tall, cold slab of granite rock in the winter? That's what it felt like. The contents were the remains of a story that --it would seem now-- was never written, or at least somebody wanted to erase for ever. I wish it wasn't that way.
We rocked to that CD, she coveted the piece of pottery, it was my favorite shirt, the one she wore many nights.

Bad timing, I say, because as I let go, and precisely one day after I blog saying that I've thought about her lately, the empty package shows up at my door. It's just "stuff". I can almost hear those words. But it is that "stuff" that makes up our lives. Places remind us of moments, smells and songs remind us of people, t-shirts and gifts remind us of promises. It cannot be "just stuff" to me. There is a tiny piece of who I am in that stuff, there was a tiny piece of my dreams -albeit already over- that was sent back to me. It reminded me of what it was, of what it wasn't, of what it could have been.

Maybe she is right. It is just stuff. But why then, why, does it make my stomach turn?

Hello again blog, I guess I had to say something tonight. I have moved on, but little things like this remind me of how much she meant to me. There is no need to dig that wound, it is almost closed, but I have to let it heal well before I can think about it again.

If you're reading this, know that I wonder how you are, and how things are back home. I have wanted to keep in touch with Ed and see how he is doing. I haven't, because I don't want to step into boundaries that I feel you want me to respect. I also do not read your blog, I'm afraid of what I might find. I haven't called the person who you asked me not to call either, though I wonder how she is doing. And most of all, I hope you are doing well, and I wonder if I would see you before you fly over the ocean.

Time will tell.

I big hug my friend. I miss you.

Sometimes

Ok, I've caught myself thinking about you lately. I hope all is well.

A Date with my Mac

I am in the middle of a wonderful date. The first one I had since my breakup with Jenn. My date's name is ibook G4, and she is a beauty! I got it for my birthday....(ok, my birthday is in two weeks, but I couldn't wait!)
I have finally decided -against the strong advice of a few loved ones, and listening to the advice of many- to switch over to Mac. So long Bill, I am NEVER coming back! I haven't even gotten started with my ibook, and I still have an ipod mini patiently waiting in its box to be unpacked, ready to play for me! I decided against the larger ipod because of its size and weight. I could have gotten the 20Gb for just $50 more, but instead I went for the 6Gb mini. It took me a while to decide, but it makes perfect sense. It truly is much lighter and smaller, and it still holds 1500 songs at 4 minutes each. That's 100 hours of music, A LOT of music! And since I'll be using it to go jogging and maybe on backpacking trips, I know it will be more than plenty for me.
Well, until I meet someone else, I guess the ibook will be my best friend. I would have said "how pathetic" before, but believe me, I can shamelessly say this Mac is awesome! And since I am entirely "Macnalfabeta" (You will only get this if you speak Spanish) I will have to spend quite a few hours familiarizing myself with it. (For the non-believers, I know what you're thinking...You don't have to spend hours learning how to use your PC...Well, let me tell you something: I set up my ibook in 4 minutes and 27 seconds. I timed myself. When I was done, I even had a wireless internet connection up and running, and I didn't even have to bother looking for my IP address. Just two clicks and I was online! HA! Try that with a PC!)

Alright, my date is waiting. You'll hear from me soon!